


Sweetly Scented Splendor

by anywh3r3y0uwant2g0



Series: SPOOKY OMENS 2020 [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Baking, Dessert & Sweets, Domestic Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Halloween, M/M, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Tags Are Hard, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unreasonable Amounts of Cheek Kisses, this is all just really soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28078647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0/pseuds/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0
Summary: When Crowley entered the bookshop he was greeted with the smell of freshly baked... something (Crowley was good at smelling things but rather terrible at discerning what exactly he was smelling. It was either pleasant smelling or unpleasant smelling. This smell was certainly in the former category).“Angel!” Crowley called.“In the kitchen, dear!” Aziraphale called back, joyfully.“Yeah, I can smell that,” Crowley said with a teasing air.OrCrowley finds Aziraphale baking in preparation for a Halloween get together. He agrees to help. Extreme fluff ensues.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: SPOOKY OMENS 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966669
Kudos: 13





	Sweetly Scented Splendor

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So, the prompt I based this one on was "Candy" but erm... what they make isn't really candy... so obviously I'm handling the whole prompt thing as loosely as I am my posting schedule. It's. December. And I'm only just posting my _second Halloween-themed_ fic. And I labeled this series as 2020... I'm definitely still going to be posting these in 2021. So. I'm kind of a disaster, but I hope you like this super fluffy fic!

Crowley was on his way back to the bookshop. He had left to take care of his plants; they were starting to become a bit less than perfect now that Crowley spent most of his time away from them. But as long as he tended to them (which, for Crowley, included a lot more yelling than any ordinary gardener) about once a week they’d stay in a good condition. 

He had stopped at a bakery on the way back, knowing Aziraphale would be happy to give in to the temptation of a holiday-themed baked good. He had gotten two Jack-o-lantern shaped ginger cookies. Supposedly one was for him, but he had every intention of letting Aziraphale have both of them. 

But, as he was greeted with the smell of freshly baked… something (Crowley was good at smelling things but rather terrible at discerning what exactly he was smelling. It was either pleasant smelling or unpleasant smelling. This smell was certainly in the former category.), he realized Aziraphale might not need the cookies! (Who was he kidding. He knew Aziraphale would eat the cookies even if he had a whole bloody wedding cake baking for him in the oven.)

“Angel!” Crowley called. 

“In the kitchen, dear!” Aziraphale called back, joyfully. 

“Yeah, I can smell that,” Crowley said with a teasing air. 

When he entered the kitchen he was able to smell (and see) more specific details of Aziraphale’s baking escapades. The angel was stirring a bowl of melted white chocolate, there was a huge tub of strawberries on the counter near him, and what was baking in the oven definitely smelled like a cake of sorts. 

“Well, you’ve certainly kept busy while I was away,” Crowley poked fun at Aziraphale. “What was it… two hours? Is the bookshop _so_ boring without me?” he drawled, snaking his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. 

The angel scoffed. “Certainly not, dear boy,” he said, turning to face the demon. “I was just quickly whipping up some holiday treats! Darling Anathema called to invite us to a bonfire later this evening and I thought we would all enjoy some snacks!” he said, smiling. 

Crowley furrowed his brow and stroked his chin overdramatically. “Who’s Anathema?” he asked. 

Aziraphale tutted. “You know very well who she is, I am aware you’ve been _texting_ her on your cellular telephone,” he said the word ‘texting’ like he did not believe that it was a real concept; more likely just another one of Crowley’s conspiracy theories.

“Ah, you mean book girl!” Crowley said playfully as he relinquished his hold on Aziraphale and went to drape his long-limbed self delicately onto a stool. 

“Yes, she does rather like books, doesn’t she? Such a delightful young lady,” Aziraphale commented with a smile. “Anywho, she said that Adam wanted us to be there. Apparently, they’re going to be telling spooky stories, and he has the rest of The Them thoroughly convinced that we will have the best stories to tell,” the angel was bouncing on the balls of his feet slightly out of excitement. 

“So you signed both of us up for an evening ‘round the fire telling ghost stories with some kids?” Crowley asked with disdain. 

“I did, yes. I thought it sounded right up your alley. You love kids and _scary_ things!” Aziraphale said with a sassy sort of enthusiasm that he got when proving someone wrong. Specifically Crowley. 

“Nnngh, angel…” Crowley groaned.

Aziraphale set his bowl of white chocolate down and the demon noticed that he was wearing a tartan apron with a white embroidered “Kiss the cook!” with a small halo over one of the o’s and angel wings above the words. He smiled as he approached Crowley to give his fiery head of hair a quick peck. The demon’s face almost rivaled the color of his hair as he thrust out his hand holding the bag with the cookies. 

“Oh! What’s this?” Aziraphale asked, taking the bag. 

“Cookies,” Crowley answered simply. 

“Oh, Crowley, you are such a dear. You shouldn’t have!” the angel said, taking a pumpkin-shaped cookie out of the bag and biting into it. His eyes fell closed as he sighed in hedonistic pleasure. “This is positively _divine,”_ he said, eyes reopening to look at Crowley. “Thank you, darling,” he said with palpable sincerity. 

“Only the best for my angel,” the demon managed to croak out. 

Just then, the oven timer went off. 

“Oh! That’ll be the cupcakes,” Aziraphale said, hurrying over to the oven. He put his cookie back into the bag and set it on the counter before putting on tartan oven mitts _(he must have miracled a whole set of tartan cooking wear,_ Crowley thought idly) and pulling out a tray of perfect looking chocolate cupcakes. “Right. I’ll leave those to cool,” Aziraphale mumbled to himself before turning to Crowley. “Would you like to help?” he asked with a dazzling smile. 

“Sssssure,” Crowley hissed. 

“Wonderful!” the angel clapped. “Here! You can make the brooms,” he said, handing Crowley a bag of straight pretzels and a package of peanut butter cups. 

“The… brooms?” the demon asked with an arched eyebrow. 

“Yes! As in witch’s brooms! They’re going to go on top of the cupcakes,” Aziraphale explained, nearing manic levels of excitement. “You make them like this,” he said, taking one snack from each bag and sticking the pretzel into the bottom of the peanut butter cup. “The pretzel is the handle and the peanut butter cup is the sweeper, isn’t that just so delightfully ingenious?!” he asked Crowley.

“‘S great, angel,” the demon said, taking the broomstick from Aziraphale and popping it into his mouth. 

The angel made some nonsensical coquettish noises as he turned back to his white chocolate and Crowley thought he heard a “wily” and an “oh dear.” He grinned and began to make more broomsticks. 

Aziraphale opened the enormous tub of strawberries and started dipping them into the chocolate, one by one. 

“What’re those gonna be?” Crowley asked.

“Hm?” Aziraphale said, seeming a bit lost in thought. “Oh!” he snapped back into the world, turning to Crowley. “They’re going to be ghosts!” 

Crowley hummed in understanding. 

“See? Chocolate chips for the eyes and mouth,” Aziraphale said as he stuck three chocolate chips onto the still warm white chocolate that now covered a strawberry.

“Nice,” the demon praised. 

“Isn’t it just?” Aziraphale smiled. This was a combination of many lovely things for the angel; celebrating, food, and Crowley!

They stayed in comfortable silence for a bit, each one working on their own task. Not talking brought with it another kind of intimacy; one they were very used to already. 

Aziraphale gasped when he lost his grip on an already-chocolate-covered strawberry. He tried to catch it but it just slid down his apron and plopped onto the floor. “Oh, bugger,” Aziraphale swore. 

Now it was Crowley’s turn to gasp. “Angel!”

“What?” Aziraphale asked with a perplexed look on his face. 

“You- you- you- you _swore!!!”_ he explained in disbelief. 

“Did I?” the angel asked, looking contemplative for a moment before shrugging like it was something he did on a day to day basis and was totally ok with. 

“Fucking Hell,” Crowley said, still a bit shell shocked at Aziraphale’s language. 

“Now you swore!” the angel pointed out.

“Yeah!? _I’m_ allowed to swear,” Crowley stated. 

Aziraphale scoffed. “I surely am as well. I’m as old as you are-”

“Errr…” Crowley interrupted but Aziraphale continued over him.

“And I’ve certainly said worse,” he said primly, turning his nose up at the demon. 

“Have not,” Crowley said, sounding quite sure of himself. 

“Oh, I have, dear boy,” he said with a coy grin. 

“Prove it,” Crowley said, narrowing his eyes. 

Aziraphale scoffed again at this ridiculous request. “How on Earth am I going to-” he started, but interrupted himself as he came to a realization. “Why don’t you call up Sargent Shadwell and ask him what he’s heard me say,” the angel said with a rather sly smile. 

Crowley gasped again, despite not having called the Sargent, opting to take Aziraphale’s word for it. “You swear around Shadwell but not me?” the demon asked, trying to sound teasing but landing much closer to pouty than he would have liked. 

The angel giggled. “It was only once, dear boy. Just before the bookshop caught fire,” he mentioned it so casually, with a smile in his voice. Crowley couldn’t help but stiffen at the words, beginning to anxiously pick at the broomstick he had just created. Aziraphale noticed the change in the atmosphere and cringed slightly at himself for not thinking a bit more before he spoke. He walked over to the demon, careful to avoid stepping on the dropped strawberry, and delicately put an arm around his waist. Crowley turned to look at him with a rather forced, lopsided smile. Aziraphale returned a soft smile and leaned his head against Crowley’s shoulder. 

They stood like that for a moment, just breathing, Aziraphale’s thumb rubbing tiny circles into the small of Crowley’s back. 

Then the angel spoke softly, rekindling their previous conversation, “I spend a lot more time around you than Sargent Shadwell, darling. If I were to swear around anyone it would be you,” Aziraphale said, jokingly. Crowley snorted and the angel lifted his head off his shoulder to grin at him. The demon smiled back, and this time it was a comfortable smile. Aziraphale pulled him close to kiss his cheek, loving the way he flushed at his antics. He smiled at him once more before heading to retrieve a paper towel in order to scoop up the strawberry from the floor. 

Crowley recovered from the cheek-kiss-butterflies rather quickly and smirked at the bent over angel. “Hmmm, angel, it seems like you’ve got quite a lot of cake…” he drawled.

“Yes, I do, rather,” Aziraphale said once he stood up, glancing at the cupcakes. “Did you make enough brooms for all of them?” he asked innocently.

“That’s not - I meant - you’ve got a - yeah, I did, actually,” Crowley replied with blazing red cheeks while staring very intensely at his brooms. 

“Oh! Jolly good!” Aziraphale bustled around the kitchen, throwing away the dropped strawberry and returning to the clean ones. “Would you mind making the frosting for the cakes? I have quite a few more strawberries to do…” he said, eyeing the bowl like he hadn’t realized its size until just now. 

“Sure. Do you have a recipe?” Crowley asked. He had never been a natural at cooking (or, more accurately in this case, baking), and he knew he was useless without the recipe.

“Er…” Aziraphale said, his voice rising like the noise was a question. “No,” he then answered plainly. 

“Oh…” Crowley replied intelligently. “Well… what do you want me to go off of?”

“Just - mix the butter in the mixing bowl until it’s soft, then add the powdered sugar and mix that in as well, then add some vanilla, then-” 

“How about you tell me the steps as I do them?” Crowley interjected when he began to feel overwhelmed. 

“Of course, dear! First, you take that butter-” Aziraphale nodded to a stick of butter sitting on the counter- “and mix it in the mixing bowl until it’s very soft,” he watched Crowley awkwardly unwrap the stick of butter and plop it into the miraculously clean mixing bowl that had remnants of cake batter in it only moments before. 

He mixed the butter and added the proper amount of sugar (unfortunately, he added it before Aziraphale warned him not to throw it in all at once and his clothes were now considerably less black than they had been when he’d started), Aziraphale added the vanilla extract because he couldn’t tell Crowley a proper measurement (first it was a “bit,” then a “tad,” then Crowley watched as Aziraphale added considerably more than he would consider a bit or a tad), they mixed in the milk and the frosting was finished! Well - not quite - Crowley added some black food coloring and then declared the cupcakes ready for frosting.

The demon frosted and the angel continued making ghost strawberries, returning to their previous state of comfortable silence. 

When they finished the treats, they each tried out the other’s handiwork. 

“Mmmph! Crowley, these are _marvelous!”_ Aziraphale praised. 

“You told me how to make ‘em,” Crowley said rather bashfully. “And you made the cakes yourself,” he pointed out. 

“Be that as it may, you did a _lovely_ job, dearest,” the angel said, pecking him on the cheek. 

Crowley blushed and ducked his head in an attempt to hide his small smile, before shoving a strawberry in his mouth to give him something to do other than feel all fluttery inside. The taste of the strawberry completely diverted his attention from his previous flusteredness. “Azirpho!” he exclaimed through the food still in his mouth. 

“Oh, what is it?” the angel asked, feeling concerned they tasted awful and a bit peeved by Crowley’s lack of manners.

The demon answered after he finished swallowing. “These are… well - they’re scrumptious!” he used the only adjective his brain would conjure up - a word he had heard Aziraphale use for centuries. 

“Really?” the angel asked, wiggling slightly. 

“Yes! They’re even better than the ones in Chicago,” he stated with certainty. 

“Oh, you can’t possibly mean that. You were positively _drooling_ over those. I think you thanked me three times for bringing you there,” Aziraphale spoke quickly, wringing his hands and anxiously chattering away about the past in the face of a truly touching compliment from his lovely demon. 

“I do mean it, angel,” Crowley said, taking the angel's hands in his own and stilling their fretful movements. 

Aziraphale met his eyes and melted. “Well, that’s very kind of you, darling,” he said with rosy cheeks and a small smile.

“Mmmmmm - kind - you - hnnnn,” Crowley said incoherently, now blushing much harder than the angel. 

Aziraphale leaned in close to his face. “You are,” he said, before giving him a peck on the cheek that left Crowley slightly dizzy. “I suppose we best get a wiggle on if we want to get to Tadfield on time,” Aziraphale said, eyeing the clock. 

“Hmm. Right. I’ll put the cupcakes back in the tin and you… can figure out the best way to transport the strawberries,” Crowley said, turning to demonically miracle up a bit of foil to place over the witch-themed baked goods. 

“Ah, yes…” Aziraphale eyed the chocolate-covered fruit. “I suppose I’ll just…” instead of using two simple miracles, he began to dig through cupboards under the counter. After a few solid minutes of Crowley working very hard to refrain from any more jokes about Aziraphale’s ‘cake’, the angel stood up with a Tupperware container and a roll of parchment paper. He hummed in satisfaction as he packed up the strawberries. 

When he finished he turned to Crowley with a beaming smile. 

“Looking perfect as always, angel-”

“Oh-!” Aziraphale began happily, but Crowley continued. 

“And the sweets look good too!” he added as he slid on his sunglasses in preparation to leave their little haven that was the bookshop.

Aziraphale swatted his arm playfully, but soon after he offered Crowley his arm, for, even if the walk was short, he could not resist walking arm in arm with the demon, and Crowley did not complain. 

And when the dimensions of a car prevented them from being arm in arm, they opted to hold hands as the Bentley hurtled towards Tadfeild.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you enjoyed that, despite the fact that it's suuuuper late for Halloween! If you want to leave comments or kudos they would be deeply appreciated :) Thank you so so much for reading! <3


End file.
